


Next Time Lets Perform DJ Caffeine's Fuck On Cocaine

by gala_apples



Series: Get Glee Laid [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Circle Jerk, Drug Use, M/M, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's going to tell the girls that they took performance enhancing drugs. He's just not going to tell them that there was more than one kind of performance.</p><p>Set during 1x06- Vitamin D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time Lets Perform DJ Caffeine's Fuck On Cocaine

Kurt spends the entire brainstorming session drawing exotic feathers. He’s not the only one not paying attention; Finn is slumped over in his chair, sleeping. He can’t fault either of their choices. Finn’s needs will be covered automatically, without needing to chime in. It’s what comes of being a perfectly average guy. Himself, on the other hand- well, the song’s not going to be in his range, which means background singing yet again, which means it doesn’t really matter if he has personal feelings about any of the routine.

Eventually Finn gets called out for drooling, then Puck convinces Finn to go to the nurses office. He comes back different, like he’s been turned up to 200% volume.

“Hey guys! How’s it going? God it’s a beautiful day! Let’s run through the number! I can’t wait to do the number! I’m ready and excited, are you guys? Stand up! Come on, let’s get this joint jumpin’!”

“Has your soul been taken over by caffeinated space aliens?” Artie asks.

“No! Just visited the school nurse, got this great vitamin, I feel fantastic! I can’t wait to do the number- let’s do the number and then afterwards we can build a house for Habitat for Humanity!”

“What kinda vitamin?” Puck asks.

It’s a good question, Kurt thinks. He follows up with “Vitamin C? Vogue magazine says it boosts energy levels and brightens the complexion.”

“Vitamin D. And I got you guys some.” Finn is grinning, and Kurt feels his face respond before he reminds himself to tone it down. 

“Dude, toss it over. I’ve been tired too.”

“Yeah, we could all use a kick, I think. I mean, couldn’t we?” Artie looks at him, and he’s not the only one. Kurt rolls his eyes. Last month April Rhodes had him drinking before breakfast. He’d hardly a stick in the mud. Besides, it’s just vitamins.

Kurt continues to draw feathers. It’s what he wants to wear, and they could still go with the stupid manly song. Badasses can wear feathers too, the guys would know that if they were listening to him. No one is listening to him. Of course, he can’t be that mad. No one is really listening to each other either. They’re all just babbling. He’s doing it too. It’s like he can hear himself, but he can’t stop himself. 

There’s no way what they took is over the counter. He’s as high as Emmett Honeycutt and Ted Schmidt ever were, and he hasn’t smoked anything, so it’s probably speed. Unfortunately for him this brainstorming session probably won’t turn into a drug fueled gangbang. A shame, really. He might love Finn, but Kurt can imagine all of them fucking him. He’s sixteen, he can imagine half the world fucking him. Not that he would necessarily be bottom. It does his soul a lot of good to imagine Puck wailing for more as five guys in a row fuck him. 

He wonders how many of them realise they’re currently high as balls. Puck for sure, he’s hoodlum enough that he’s probably done everything. Harder to say about Mike and Matt and Finn. It’s not like he knows what happens at a football party. For all he knows they roll on E every weekend. Kurt can’t exactly picture Coach Tanaka being a good enough coach to demand drug tests.

Kurt looks up from his sketching when Matt pats his arm approximately twenty seven times to get his attention. Yeah, they’re definitely all on something. Although maybe it’s not speed. What they all took came in that plastic bubble foil packaging, and Kurt’s pretty sure most dealers don’t sell things that professionally. Maybe it’s Adderol. Kurt’s heard that if you don’t have ADHD, taking their meds can make you ADHD.

“Yes?” He curbs the urge to babble even though his brain wants him to. No one here wants to listen to anything he has to say, beside maybe Artie.

“You have to vote on the choreography.”

“Yes,” he replies with a handwave he means to look regal. Whatever they’ve picked on their testosterone and drug fueled haze, it’ll be easy enough to do. Kurt’s a good dancer, Single Ladies is proof enough of that. It’s highly unlikely that this dance will be anything like that though. It’ll have to be far more masculine. There will probably be fist pumping. The only real thing Kurt has to look forward to is the breakdancing solo Mike and maybe Matt will do.

He’s right. It’s an endless grabbing of microphone stands on the low risers, with a bit of Mike doing his thing. It’s barely choreography, but somehow Kurt’s still sweaty when they sit down for a break. It only makes sense when he looks at the clock. Even low contact dancing can be sweaty if you do it for three class periods. Clearly time distortion is another side effect of whatever they’re dosed with. Probably for the best, anyway. The way Kurt’s feeling he would undoubtedly draw attention to himself in class.

He’s about to stand and get a handkerchief from his satchel when Artie asks “is anyone horny? I’m horny.” Kurt freezes. The only way he’ll make it out of this room of football players alive is if he draws absolutely no attention to himself. He can’t even inhale.

“I’m always horny,” Puck answers, a leer on his face and his hand rubbing up and down the fly of his jeans.

Hyperventilating is the opposite of not breathing, but thank god for small miracles, his heaving chest doesn’t attract any glances.

“We’re all guys, we’re all always horny.”

Lady Vogue and Mistress Chanel, save him from boy logic.

“You five go to the bathroom and I’ll stay here. By the time I wheel myself I’ll be soft. So you five go and I’ll stay.”

“None of us like walking down the hall hard either. It’s awkward.” Mike says. His hand is on himself too. Kurt shouldn’t be looking at Mike Chang’s hand, but he can’t stop. If he doesn’t get oxygen into his lungs soon he’s going to pass out. And he’s going to wake up with shoe prints on his face because this will somehow be all his fault.

“Okay fine, we’ll all stay here, and no one says anything.”

Kurt is going to die. Kurt is actually literally going to fall over and die. And then his brain whirls into a new gear altogether. Finn is unzipping his jeans and it’s impossible to look away. Even though Kurt can hear four other zippers being undone he can’t look away from Finn’s hand working himself with the same manic speed that this whole afternoon has had.

“What? Fags don’t have dicks?”

Kurt automatically looks over at his interrogator, and gets a good look at Puck’s cock. It’s bigger than he’d spitefully imagined.

“Stop perving on us and jerk off like a normal person.”

Kurt has nothing to say. There is nothing in his repertoire for a moment where Noah Puckerman yells at him for not jerking off in a room full of good looking guys. He is going to die, but he’s going to do this once in a lifetime thing first. Blushing furiously Kurt undoes his belt. Normally the thought of leaving it flapped open rather than safely coiled would horrify him, but at this point he has other concerns. 

As Kurt strokes his cock he lets himself go sort of cross-eyed. That way it will look like he’s looking at no one while he’s really got a slightly fuzzy panoramic view. Artie’s barely touching his shaft, mostly just working the head of his cock. Mike’s somehow doing this so rhythmically it looks artistic. Kurt didn’t even know that was possible. And of course Finn is fantastic, the best of them all.

The room smells like sex. It’s all five different Wal-Mart colognes and sweat and nothing like any of the candles Kurt has for special occasions. This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to Kurt. From this day on he’s going to petition that Pier 1 begin stocking a sex scented candle. Everyone would benefit from having this in their lives.

Finn orgasms first, to a chuckled _I knew it_ from Puck. The unmistakable smell of come adds itself to the air. It’s a push that acts like a domino. Over the next minute the rest of the boys in the room come, Artie second, Puck last. Kurt allows himself ten dangerous seconds of afterglow before he stands, zipper still undone.

“Don’t run Hummel. I’m not going to break your teeth.”

“I’m getting a handkerchief,” he replies, trying for archly. He’s aware he doesn’t make it. Between the drugs still working in his system, post orgasm endorphins, and genuine fear one of them will beat him, sophistication is a hard tone to wrangle.

“You got six?” Matt asks.

“No.” Kurt replies. Just how gay do they think he is? Then he reconsiders. He was going to construct that gibbeous style skort in sewing class - which he missed to do drugs and have his first sexual experience. He actually has about fifteen handkerchiefs stuffed into the bottom of his bag. “Possibly. If I lend them out, you _will_ wash and return them.”

To his utmost surprise, they simply accept his conditions. None of the football players ask what he’s going to do with the handkerchiefs once returned. The answer of course is _not_ that he’s going to keep them in a creepy gay shrine. This was a good experience, but not that good. Kurt’s going to wash the handkerchiefs a second time just to be certain they’re clean, and then make his skort. He’s only got a few weeks left before it gets too late in the season to pull off such a look.


End file.
